Missing
by Nyiestra
Summary: During a law enforcement conference in DC, Danny Reagan goes missing. His father calls an old friend, NCIS Agent Jethro Gibbs, for help finding his son.  But what will he—and Linda—think of what Gibbs's team finds?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Missing

**Summary:** During a law enforcement conference in DC, Danny Reagan goes missing. His father calls an old friend, NCIS Agent Jethro Gibbs, for help finding his son. But what will he—and Linda—think of what Gibbs's team finds?

**A/N:** Set six months after my previous Blue Bloods story, "Broken," but you don't really need to have read that to read this. Fair warning, there's little resemblance between this story and Broken; it's a format I wanted to experiment with, and much shorter and faster-paced.

**A/N 2:** This is a crossover between Blue Bloods and NCIS, but I hope that won't keep you from reading it—though it is primarily a Blue Bloods story.

All you need to know from NCIS is that they are cops who investigate crimes affecting the Navy, Marine Corps, and the members thereof. I've taken liberties here, especially with their jurisdiction.

All you need to know from Blue Bloods is that the Reagans are an NYPD family.

**Disclaimer:** As much as I would love to own Danny Reagan (and the rest of them), I don't. All in fun; no money made.

**-1-**

_Navy Yard, Washington DC,  
>Wednesday, 1400 hours<em>

"Gibbs, Frank Reagan, NYPD."

Gibbs frowned down at his desk, and then shot a look up at the balcony, and Vance's office door. "Reagan. What can I do for you?"

"I have an… unorthodox favor to ask of you. But, as I recall, you can be a fairly unorthodox man, when the situation calls for it."

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, allowing his eyes to rake over his team. DiNozzo was out of the office, at a LEO conference, and he was the one most likely to be obvious in his attempts at eavesdropping. But Ziva and McGee were far from innocent. Their eyes flicked ever so subtly in his direction every few seconds. They were itching for a case.

It'd been a long couple of weeks with nothing more than cold cases, and this conference had come at the best possible time; Gibbs had started to feel like a parent overseeing unruly kids in the last couple of weeks of summer vacation. If DiNozzo had been around this week, someone would have died—and there were no bets on who it would be."

"I know this falls outside of your jurisdiction, but I need help from someone I can trust in your area, and there are not that many people on my list."

"What can I do for you?" he asked again, already weighing his options. The way things had been going, Leon would sign off on just about anything if it'd get Gibbs's stir-crazy team out of his hair.

"My oldest son, Danny, is in DC." Reagan paused, the silence heavy. "At least, he was. He's disappeared."

_Reagan Household, Staten Island  
>Sunday, 1600 hours<em>

Linda leaned one hip against the doorframe and watched him shove t-shirts and boxer shorts into his suitcase. Danny could _feel _her eyes on him without having to look up to see her. Not that he had any complaints about looking up at her. She'd changed already, into flannel pajama bottoms and the just-tight-enough t-shirt she preferred to sleep in. He added a couple of pairs of athletic shorts to his bag as she padded across the floor to wrap her arms around his waist.

"I'm gonna miss you, babe." He pressed a kiss to her neck.

"I already miss you." She leaned back, still in his arms—trusting him to hold her up—and cocked her head to the side. "The boys do too. They're already asking when you get back."

"Two days and they won't even notice I'm gone."

She shook her head slowly, still smiling. "They'll notice. You better call every night, or we'll be calling you."

"Course I'll call. Every night, right before bedtime."

She licked her lips and rose onto her toes to kiss him on the mouth. "You can call after bedtime, too."

"I'll have to do that." He danced her away from the bed, to the tune of Shrek, playing in the living room, and then released her. "Can you grab my razor?"

"What a line, Danny. You really know how to make the girls swoon." She swatted his shoulder lightly, but did as he asked. "It's too bad you're stuck going alone."

"Too bad about Jackie's uncle." He buried his electric razor in the corner of his suitcase, and then grabbed his black shoes. He and his partner had signed up for this conference two months ago, and then on Friday afternoon, Jackie got a call from her mother that her uncle had been killed—hit and run. She wasn't close to him, but it was her mother's brother, and she needed to be there for her family.

NYPD was out two grand for her cancelling last-minute, but their lieutenant was a pretty reasonable guy, as lieutenants went.

"You gonna be okay?"

Danny kept his eyes on his suitcase as he zipped it shut, not offering an answer until his wife closed the distance between them. Her arm circled his waist again and she pressed herself into his side. "Danny?"

"I'll call Jimmy if I need him." Jimmy Morrison, his AA sponsor and a fellow detective, had already warned him that he was walking into the proverbial lion's den. A conference full of typically hard-drinking law enforcement types and an empty hotel room with little to occupy his time presented a dangerous combination.

Linda insinuated herself between Danny and his suitcase. She shoved it back to make space for her to sit, and then took his hands. "You can call me, too."

"I know, babe." He lifted a hand to cup her chin. "I will."

_Navy Yard, Washington DC,  
>Wednesday, 1400 hours<em>

Gibbs reached for a pen and the first scrap of paper he saw, taking down details as quickly as Reagan could offer them up. Danny, attending the same conference DiNozzo was, had last spoken to his wife around lunch time on Tuesday. He hadn't called as expected on Tuesday night, and neither his wife, nor his father, had been able to reach him. The hotel couldn't track him down, and the conference coordinator Reagan had spoken to, confirmed that Danny hadn't shown up for the seminars he'd signed up for so far on Wednesday.

There was more. His partner, arriving in DC late after a family funeral, had been likewise unable to locate him. His room showed no sign of a struggle—it, in fact, showed nothing at all. Danny's belongings were gone.

"As I said, Gibbs, I know this falls outside of your jurisdiction, and if there's nothing you can do, I'll certainly understand and work with DC Metro. But if there is—"

"Give me his partner's contact information. I'll let you know."

He wrote down her full name and number on a Post-it, and motioned McGee over to take it. Ziva rose as well.

"I appreciate this, Gibbs."

"Semper Fi," was his only reply. He didn't miss the look exchanged between his two subordinates as he hung up the phone. "Ziva, get DiNozzo on the line. McGee, call Detective Curatola and find out where she is and tell her we'll meet her in an hour." It was time to talk to Leon.

_Renaissance Hotel, Washington DC  
>Monday, 0900 hours<em>

Danny took a seat at the back of what had to be one of the largest conference rooms the hotel had to offer and glanced around at the people filtering in for the seminar on surveillance in anti-terrorism operations. Most he guessed were about his age, and some younger. He noted with a little bit of surprise that there were more than a few around his father's age, too.

Well, they were the ones who probably most needed to learn this stuff at events like this; Jamie had probably had half of this covered in his classes at the Academy. Somehow, he doubted the presenters were going to recommend watching through binoculars from behind the wheel of an unmarked van—the precise surveillance methods he'd been trained in, coming up through the ranks.

A young woman—emphasis on young—caught Danny's attention as she entered through the door nearest him, only a few meters away and visible through a brief break in the crowd. It wasn't the tight skirt or low-cut green sweater she wore that drew his eye, though those certainly helped. It was something about her face.

She glanced his way, her gaze lingering on him for a second longer than anyone else, though he couldn't tell if it was because she recognized him, or because he was watching her. She offered a timid smile that didn't match the 'look-at-me' her clothing proclaimed, and then took a seat across the aisle from him, a couple of rows back.

Danny watched her out of the corner of his eye a minute or two longer, but she never glanced his way again, so he focused his attention on the counter-terrorism handbook they'd provided and tried to put her out of his mind.

_Navy Yard, Washington DC,  
>Wednesday, 1420 hours<em>

"Gibbs, if I tried to list all the ways we can't even pretend to have jurisdiction over this case—" Vance folded his hands on the desk and shot Gibbs that _look_ he had—the one that asked what new and interesting way Gibbs was going to come up with to plead his case.

Gibbs didn't really consider it pleading, but if letting the Director think of it that way would help him get his way, he was okay with that. "You notice, Leon, I didn't try to argue that we do have jurisdiction."

"And for that reason, I can't fathom why you brought this to me."

"DiNozzo's already there. I've got David and McGee downstairs, sitting on their hands and getting on my nerves. If we were working on something worth working on, I wouldn't be here right now." Gibbs lay his palms flat on the desk in front of Vance, who didn't flinch. "Frank Reagan, and his son, are Marines. Not to mention he's the Commissioner of the largest police force in the world. Can't hurt to make him a friend."

Granted, he was already a friend, and a rational enough man to not take it personally if Gibbs couldn't help him.

And hell if Vance hadn't used the agency to his own personal ends before.

Vance worked his jaw, and Gibbs couldn't tell at that moment whether he was looking for a way to refuse, or a way to save face as he said yes. Finally, after far longer spent deliberating than necessary, the Director leaned back in his chair. "All right, Gibbs. Take the case. Just… try not to make an enemy of the Commissioner of the New York Police Department."

"Don't intend to."

Vance frowned around his toothpick. "I'd say you never do, but I'm not sure that'd be accurate."

Gibbs tossed a reply over his shoulder on the way out the door. "Nope."


	2. Chapter 2

**allison - **I love them both, and the two just demanded a crossover.

**screwflysolution - **They do seem very alike, Frank and Gibbs, don't they?

** AnnZ246** - Thanks!

**A/N:** Sorry you guys had to wait so long! I've decided to expand this story quite a bit, and it's going to take some significant rewriting, so updates, while steady, won't be as frequent as with _Broken_.

**-2-**

_Navy Yard, Washington DC,  
>Wednesday, 1430 hours<em>

McGee met Gibbs at the bottom of the stairs. "Boss, Detective Curatola will meet us in the lobby in forty-five minutes."

"Tony is on the line, Gibbs." Ziva tapped the handset of her phone. "We have already told him where to meet us."

Gibbs picked up the phone as Ziva took Tony off hold. "DiNozzo."

"Yeah, boss."

"Tell hotel security we need access to their surveillance systems yesterday. We have a missing NYPD detective."

"NY—" Tony started to ask, and then interrupted himself. "On it, boss."

Gibbs hung up the phone and turned to find Ziva and McGee staring at him. "What're you waiting for? Gear up. We got a missing Marine."

_Renaissance Hotel, Washington DC  
>Monday, 1500 hours<em>

Danny saw the mystery girl at a seminar on trends in forensic DNA testing that afternoon. She was already seated when he walked into the room, five seats into a row smack in the middle of the room, and he took the outermost seat in the same row.

She looked over at him once, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, and in an instant Danny wasn't sitting in a conference room in downtown DC. He was in the back of a courtroom, watching his brother on the stand. A teenage girl sat at the defendant's table, her straight brown hair hanging half the length of her back. She turned away, chewing her lower lip, and toyed with a strand of hair.

Rachel Vaughn.

The hair color was different, and the face was a little older—though, hell, so was Danny's—and the name on the tag hanging around her neck was different. But the girl three chairs away from him was the same one his brother's testimony had failed to convict.

Her father had gone to prison for drug trafficking and murder, but the jury had been swayed by her tears and the feigned innocence in her eyes. Despite Joe's report of the arrest, after he'd all but watched her shoot a twenty-year-old black man in the chest, she'd been found not guilty.

The image of Joe, nearly putting his hand through the wall when the decision was handed down, against them—Danny felt like he was watching it all over again. His throat threatened to close, and he tightened a fist around the edge of his chair. Remembering Joe had never hit him like this.

"Detective… Daniel Reagan?"

Danny started, and turned in his seat to find himself eye-to-eye with Vaughn. Her eyes widened, and he realized shock must have shown on his face. He schooled his expression to neutral as best he could as she drew back. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. I just—noticed you earlier."

She'd noticed him looking. She was observant, which meant he needed to be more careful.

Danny held out his hand. "Danny Reagan."

She shook and then held up her name tag. "Gina Dawson. Not a detective—I'm in med school, training to be a medical examiner." She cocked her head to the side and studied his tag. "NYPD, huh? I'm up in Rochester."

She was gutsy, too—and smooth. She might not have connected Daniel Reagan with his brother Joe right off the bat, but there was no way his association with the NYPD wouldn't have made things click. But she didn't bat an eye, and Danny returned her smile. "Well, what do you know?"

_Renaissance Hotel, Washington DC  
>Wednesday, 1515 hours<em>

Tony saw Gibbs first, and waved them over to him while keeping an eye out for this Detective Curatola, whoever she might be. He needn't have bothered; a brunette approached on Tony's team's heels, distinguished easily from the off-duty LEOs crawling all over the building; her detective's shield shone on her belt.

"Special Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned on his heel before acknowledging Tony and spoke with no question in his voice. "Detective Curatola."

She held out her hand, first to Gibbs and then to Ziva and McGee in turn, and finally turned to Tony.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." He favored her with his best smile. An Italian from New York, and a hot one at that. This was going to be fun.

She shook his hand very quickly, and didn't offer even a hint of a grin before turning back to Gibbs. "The hotel's conference rooms are all in use, thanks to the conference, but they've offered us a business suite. It has a full media outfit, so you'll be able to speak with Commissioner Reagan and my partner's family whenever you need to."

"Good work, Detective." Gibbs nodded to Tony. "DiNozzo."

Curatola led the way to suite on the top floor of the hotel, and Tony let out a sharp whistle when they walked in. The furnishings themselves weren't much different than Tony's own room, several floors down, but the square footage was. A door to the left of the sitting area opened into a huge bedroom, and the opposite door opened to what was essentially a small conference room, complete with table and a half-dozen chairs. The media closet Curatola had mentioned sat at the near end, closed.

They filled in around the table, and Gibbs got straight down to business. He fixed his gaze on the detective. "What do you know?"

"About as much as you do, I figure." Curatola rested her elbows on the back of a chair. "I got down here this morning, and couldn't get in touch with Reagan. His cell was going straight to voicemail. I got in touch with one of the coordinators and found out which seminar he was supposed to be in this morning, and he never showed. I didn't think they were gonna let me into his room, but then housekeeping reported it looked like he'd skipped out."

Tony cleared his throat. "Can someone pretend that there are people in the room who don't know what's going on here?" Judging by the nods from Ziva and McGee, he wasn't the only one at least mostly in the dark.

Curatola spoke before Gibbs could. "My partner, Danny Reagan, disappeared, probably sometime yesterday afternoon."

"Danny Reagan, Commissioner Reagan's son?" Tony asked. She nodded. "Okay, so, not that it matters, but how is this our case?" Somehow, Tony doubted that his mere presence in the building where a New York City detective had gone missing was enough to put this case into NCIS jurisdiction.

But he should have known better than to ask; Gibbs just looked over at him. "He's a Marine."

_Renaissance Hotel, Washington DC  
>Monday, 1830 hours<em>

Danny leaned back in his chair, watching the activity at the bar with just a touch of envy. A few of the guys he'd sat with at dinner were tossing back shots; he could practically taste the liquor all the way across the lobby.

"You look like you're having a grand ol' time, all alone over here." Vaughn—Dawson, as she was calling herself now—plunked her beer down on the table across from Danny. "Get you one?"

Danny blinked up at her, his reaction time a little slow because he couldn't believe her audacity. There was no chance in hell she didn't know exactly who he was—so what was her game? He tapped his glass, half full of Coke. "I'm good."

She rolled her eyes but didn't push, and then tapped the back of the empty chair opposite him. "This seat taken?"

Danny glanced at her beer, and then at the chair. "Now it is."

_Renaissance Hotel, Washington DC  
>Wednesday, 1600 hours<em>

Jackie watched as DiNozzo frowned down at the photo of Reagan that McGee had brought up on his computer screen. It was his NYPD ID picture, and she was pretty sure she had a better likeness on her cell phone, but it did the job.

"I've seen this guy." DiNozzo tapped the screen. "Last night, after dinner, at the bar."

"In the lobby, or actually at the bar?" The skepticism in her voice drew four pairs of eyes in her direction. She frowned at Reagan, his big brown eyes staring back at her, and sighed. "Reagan's a recovering alcoholic. He's been sober… six months, I think." She pressed her lips together, debating how much to say. "It's been rough, and I don't buy he was hanging out the bar."

DiNozzo met her gaze, frowning. "He was there, hanging out _at_ the bar. He was talking to some woman, black hair, pretty good looking girl." He glanced meaningfully toward Gibbs. "They looked pretty cozy, boss."

"No way." Judging by the expressions on their faces she wasn't making any friends in this room, but she really couldn't have cared less. "Now I know you got the wrong guy. Reagan's the most devoted husband you'd ever meet. Not a chance he's stepping out."

DiNozzo opened his mouth and then snapped it shut with a click and turned away from her completely. "Gibbs, this is the guy I saw. He was at the bar, _with_ a woman. I watched them leave together, and he was clearly inebriated. The hotel's gotta have cameras; if you don't believe me," he looked pointedly at Jackie, "then have McGeek do his thing and we can verify it."

All four pairs of eyes focused on her again, obviously expecting her to back down in the face of his certainty. She folded her arms and glared at them in a way Danny knew all too well. "Go ahead."

_Renaissance Hotel, Washington DC  
>Monday, 2100 hours<em>

Danny dug his phone from his pocket as he flopped down onto one of the two full beds, loosening his tie as he dialed his wife; Linda answered on the first ring. "Danny, hey."

"Hey, babe." He moved the phone away long enough to tug his tie over his head. He wasn't wearing one tomorrow. "How was your day?"

"You gotta have a talk with your son." Her voice carried a touch of laughter, so he knew it wasn't too serious. "He got into a fight, on the playground today."

"Over what?" Danny pushed up onto his elbows and put his phone on the bed next to him, on speaker. Jack was a pretty quiet kid, all around. Sean had gotten into a couple tussles on the playground, boys being boys, but his oldest didn't tend to mix it up.

"Defending his little brother."

That explained why she was taking it so easily—though Danny could just imagine Jack shaking in his high-tops, having to face mom after getting in a fight. "What can I say?" Danny felt a grin tugging at his lips, and when he realized his wife couldn't see him, he let it out. "He's a Reagan."

Linda laughed lightly in his ear. "I know, I know. That's what Erin said, too. She and Nicky were over for dinner. It's nice that someone in the family will make the _long_ trip out to Staten Island."

"Well, if we had a big enough dining room to fit that many people…"

"Yeah, yeah. You make Lieutenant someday and we'll start house hunting, yeah?"

Danny barked a short laugh. "Babe, I don't think that's as much of a pay jump as you think it is."

"Let me dream, Danny. Let me dream." He could hear her moving around, though he couldn't tell what she was doing. "How you doing, hon?"

"I'm okay." Linda was good at this, the being worried without making him want to strangle her, or himself. "I think I'm gonna call Jimmy though."

"Okay."

"I just… could use a pep talk, you know?"

"I know, Danny." She was quiet for a few seconds, and Danny spent that time just being glad to have her on the other end of the line. "You want to talk to the boys?"

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to talk to his boys.


End file.
